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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29471817">A Poor Display of Gun Safety</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassiusCade/pseuds/CassiusCade'>CassiusCade</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, Half-Life, freeman's mind</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, Boot Play, Coming In Pants, Fear Play, Gun Kink, Humiliation, Kissing, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, steppy, the gun isn't loaded</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:34:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,996</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29471817</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassiusCade/pseuds/CassiusCade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the group of Gordons find a place to settle down for the night after wondering Black Mesa, Feetman seeks out Freemind for a bit of company. After finding him cleaning his guns they both find out Feetman has a bit of a gun kink.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gordon Feetman/Gordon Freemind</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Poor Display of Gun Safety</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you're uncomfortable with unloaded guns being pointed at people and the like, you might not want to read this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After walking around Black Mesa for an ungodly amount of time, the group of Gordon’s, united across multiple alternate realities, had finally found a place safe enough to camp out for the night. Luckily for them it was a particularly well defended wing where the guards’ sleeping quarters and training grounds were, providing them with a miraculous amount of supplies to stock up on, and even some showers and clean clothes.</p><p>They knew this safe haven wouldn’t last long, so they made sure to savor this down time of theirs. It felt good, taking a break from wearing the HEV suits and spending the evening just resting up. Freeman and Gorgeous had disappeared to who knows where. They might have mentioned something about getting sodas? Freeman really couldn’t remember, honestly he could have just been too lost in thought missing the science team. </p><p>He shook his head. They’d find each other eventually, and after all the time he’d spent with the team he knew better than to worry about them too much, they could handle themselves just fine. It was probably a good idea to find some company though.</p><p>Freemind was working in one of the break rooms, cleaning his weapons. He might have been the one Feetman got along the worst with out of the group, but he figured some company was better than no company right now. He opened the door quietly, watching as Freemind took apart his gun with seasoned expertise. </p><p>“Hey. Just uh, wanted to check in and… y’know, see how you were doing?”</p><p>There was no response. He didn’t even look up as he worked through his cleaning process. </p><p>“Polite as ever I see. Can’t even manage a hello?”</p><p>He gives an annoyed sigh, “Do you really have nothing better to do right now other than bug the shit out of me?”</p><p>“No I don’t, funny enough.”</p><p>Freemind rolls his one good eye as he begins to reassemble his gun. </p><p>“I know you’ve got this whole lone hero complex going on, but god, it won’t kill you to socialize a bit with us-”</p><p>He examines his gun as Feetman talks, looking down the barrel casually as he moves to aim it at Feetman’s chest.</p><p>A shock of fear shoots down Feetman’s spine, body freezing up and a fire of panic lighting in his stomach. You’d think after trekking through Black Mesa for this long one would have a pretty solid fight or flight response, but all he could do was freeze up, body starting to tremble a bit.</p><p>He knows Freemind wouldn’t shoot him (at least not in this situation anyway), but that doesn’t get rid of the fear response.</p><p>“Whoa- Hey! Don’t point that thing at me asshole! Didn’t you ever learn gun safety?!” He yells, voice dripping in panic.</p><p>Freemind snickers and flips the gun around to show there’s no magazine inserted, and just to reinforce his point he shows the unattached magazine in his other hand. It was clear that his terrified reaction was immensely amusing to him.</p><p>He watched as Feetman let go of the breath he was holding in relief, how his eyes looked down and to the side and anywhere except his own, the furrow of his brow telling how worked up he was. Feetman was an anxious guy, as if it wasn’t clear enough by the beads of sweat still on his skin. Maybe he should feel a little bad for terrorizing him, but on the other hand he totally deserves everything he’s giving him with how much he argues.</p><p>Whine whine whine, god he’s so easy to set off. It’s amazing that <i>he’s</i> considered the most insufferable out of the group of Gordons and not Feetman. Honestly he <i>deserves</i> the right to mess with him a little for having to deal with him for this long.</p><p>He’s the least useful out of them too, from what he’s heard Feetman’s scientist friends practically carried his ass while they were together. His incompetence is annoying at best, and his wimpy attitude would get them killed here in Black Mesa. </p><p>After dealing with aliens and the US military for this long you’d think he’d be more competent around guns, but here he was. Shown the gun wasn’t even loaded and he’s <i>still</i> trembling a little. What a joke.</p><p>He stares at Feetman’s face, goading him to make eye contact so he can jeer at how pathetic he is, when he notices how red his face looks. Not quite in the way that someone who’s just had a gun pulled on him should. He refuses to meet his eyes, and maybe his embarrassment is about something more.</p><p>“Did that… are you <i>blushing?</i>” Freemind snears. </p><p>Feetman’s eyes go wide again, and he does that thing where he flails his arms a lot while he talks that he so often does when worked up. </p><p>“No! Well- look it’s just… I… it’s just...”</p><p>He scratches the back of his head sheepishly as he tries to speak coherently.</p><p>“Some might think… that… you look… attractive, while um, holding a gun and all that, y’know?” He finally gets out awkwardly, hand lowering to rest at his neck as he makes eye contact with a trying little half smile. Freemind feels something in his chest that he refuses to unpack.</p><p>“You just had a gun pointed at you, I mean, I knew you were dumb but not that you’re a <i>freak</i>. Do you pop a boner every time some boot boy takes a shot at you or is it reserved only for you other selves?”</p><p>His smile disappears and his face flushes even more from embarrassment and anger. He looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel and god it’s so funny. </p><p>“God I don’t know why I just said that. You’re the <i>last</i> person who needs to be complimented- such an insufferable bastard and…”</p><p>Freemind’s found that tuning out his alternate selves’ rants is the only way to go on tolerating them. Feetman especially. </p><p>The way he’s pacing in place, hands pulling at his hair and gesturing wildly as he rants all embarrassed, it had Freemind feelin some kind of way. They could all probably use some uh, <i>stress relief</i> at this point, and if Feetman was down there really wasn’t a better time to do it than now, so fuck it.</p><p>He waits until Feetman turns to look at him, pointing and spouting some insults, before he raises the gun again, this time aimed on his face. </p><p>It makes Feetman pause, and before he could start back up again Freemind interjects.</p><p>“You really want to play with this thing? Get over here.” </p><p>He motions to the spot in front of him with the gun.</p><p>Feetman’s mouth hangs open, and he shuts it and swallows. For once he says nothing as he stands there, looking from the gun to Freemind to his surroundings then back to the gun, as if contemplating in his head if this was really worth his pride. </p><p>Freemind grins smugly as he found the answer to that question to be yes, walking over to where Freemind had pointed, cautiously. </p><p>When he stopped, Freemind guestured downwards with the gun again, signaling him to get on his knees. Feetman rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and curses as if struggling more with the idea of ‘am I really doing this?’ in his head before obeying, looking at Freemind with an expression of disdain and anticipation. </p><p>The gun pushes past his lips, and he takes it in experimentally. It didn’t taste great, he had just cleaned it after all. Whatever trace of solvent remained tasted of oil and chemicals until the metallic taste of the barrel overcame them, which wasn’t as bad.</p><p>He had to be careful too, Freemind wasn’t exactly gentle. A few times the metal had clinked or scraped on his teeth, which hurt enough to make him wince but he eventually wised up enough to use his lips to cover around them as a barrier. </p><p>The small discomforts didn’t matter, it’s not like he thought sucking off a gun would be all sunshine and daisies. The thrill of having something so dangerous and threatening being thrusted in and out of his mouth went straight to his dick. </p><p>The fact that it was <i>Freemind,</i> supreme jackass and #1 pain in his side just made it worse (Better?). They’ve only been traveling together as a group for a few days but nearly every time this guy opened his mouth it made everyone want to punch his face. He looked down on everyone, moreso on Feetman, and it caused them to fight often. Honestly he was bad enough to make Feetman miss dealing with Benrey instead, which is saying something. </p><p>Seeing Feetman deepthroat his gun so eagerly was starting to have him feel a little tight in his pants. Using his free hand he palmed at himself through the fabric, watching as Feetman used his tongue to lick along the barrel, leaning up to suck as much as he could take in. </p><p>Freemind unzips his pants, taking himself into his hand as he begins to stroke, never taking his eyes off the show Feetman was putting on.</p><p>He pushed the gun in a bit faster, a bit rougher, just to hear the needy little noises escaping him that had Freemind’s grip on his dick tightening. His lips were red and a bit abused from the gun, drool spilling from them in a messy display. His mouth looked so good, and he bet it would feel good too. </p><p>He drags the barrel across his tongue and out of his mouth, trailing it gently over his abused lips and across his jaw bone before pressing it against his head enough to push him forward a bit.</p><p>“Suck.” He orders, holding his dick out towards Feetman’s mouth. </p><p>There’s much less thinking and much less hesitation on Feetman’s end this time. He takes him in his mouth and picks up where he left off almost immediately. Freemind keeps the gun pressed against his head, groaning at the warm delicious wetness of his swirling tongue and throat.</p><p>There’s still some fear there, it is a gun after all even if it is empty. It mixes wonderfully with his arousal, getting him moaning loudly around his cock.</p><p>“If this is all it takes to shut you up then I should do this more often” He snickers, grabbing onto Feetman’s hair with his other hand to start fucking into his mouth faster. </p><p>With a final deep thrust inside he finds himself pushed over the edge and spilling into his mouth; he pulls out so a stripe or two decorates Feetman’s face. They’re both catching their breath once he lets go of his hair and lets his arms rest by his side, gun still in hand. </p><p>Freemind tucks himself back in his pants before squatting down in front of the man still kneeling before him. Feetman’s eyes are glossed over with arousal and he’s still breathing heavy, but doesn’t look away from Freemind, curious about what he’ll do next. </p><p>After looking him up and down, Freemind takes his thumb and wipes up the seed he’d spilt on his face. After gathering all of it he pulls away and licks it clean. He watches intently during, at the way Feetman’s eyes widen and the little shiver that races through him.</p><p>“Guessin you’re gonna wanna cum too huh?” He says as he stands up, Feetman lets out a confirming whine in response.</p><p>“Well, I guess you do deserve a reward for being so good for me, <i>for once.</i>” He stresses that last part, using his boot to push Feetman backwards onto the floor. </p><p>“Maybe this’ll teach you to stop disobeying my orders so much. No more of that ‘But Freemind, that’s unethical!’ bullshit.”</p><p>He steps off and starts walking around him leisurely. Feetman’s boner is left insufferably unattended to, but he knows Freemind probably wouldn’t let him touch himself right now. </p><p>Despite his predicament he still prickles at Freemind’s words. Of course he’d start saying shit like that in a moment like this. </p><p>With a roll of his eyes he talks back, “You’re not our leader or anything, when are you gonna get that through your head? I don’t have to take your shitty orders man.”</p><p>Freemind stops his pacing and uses his boot to step down on Feetman's face, pushing it into the floor. </p><p>“Yeah? Cause you seem to really enjoy taking my orders right now.”</p><p>He wanted to snap back, shove his boot off him, do <i>something</i> to show him what’s what, but instead he gladly takes the abuse with a greedy whimper.</p><p>Actually it really fucking sucks to have a humiliation kink while being with the worst person you know, but that’s for post-nut Feetman to berate himself about. </p><p>With a cross of his arms against his chest, Freemind rocks his boot against his face, grinding it into the floor and watching how he squirms, noting the twitch Feetman’s boner gives.</p><p>“You’re lucky I don’t make you lick my boots clean for talkin back like that. Hell, you’d probably enjoy that too. How about you just say sorry instead?”</p><p>Feetman starts mindlessly gripping at the floor to keep from touching himself. He’d rather die than apologize, but desperation clouded over his mind enough for him to choke out “I’m s-sorry…” </p><p>“Good boy.” He says, removing the boot from his face and walking down to stand in front of Feetman’s spread legs.</p><p>Feetman raises himself up on his elbows just in time to see him step down on his crotch, moving his boot in small circles. It’s such a relief that he cries out, quickly moving a hand to cover his mouth and stifle any other embarrassing noises threatening to spill. </p><p>“This is pretty pathetic man, it’s hard to believe you’re really supposed to be some other version of me.”</p><p>“Oh because you’re just <i>so great.</i>”</p><p>He steps down in a way that has him crying out again. </p><p>“Yeah, I am. In fact, I want to hear you <i>say it.</i>”</p><p>When there’s no sign of further movement from his boot, he lays back against the floor again with a desperate, angry groan.</p><p>“Ok- Fine, you’re great. Happy?”</p><p>Some of the pressure lets off and the small circles start up again. </p><p>“Keep going.” He goads. </p><p>There’s an embarrassingly audible gasp and Feetman arches his back at the pleasure, trying to grind against Freemind for more friction. At this point any brain cells he had left were completely melted. </p><p>“God- you’re so so great, amazing… you’re great at this, the best. Fuck- mh… Freemind…”</p><p>His compliments melt into incoherent babbling as Freemind speeds up his movement, grinding his boot into him. He’s lucky Feetman’s got his eyes squeezed shut, cause the flush on Freemind’s cheeks was way too apparent for his liking.</p><p>He continued on like that until it looked like Feetman was close to hitting his limit, before he removed all contact. </p><p>Feetman nearly sobbed when the friction stopped, and sat up quickly to see what the issue was.</p><p>“No! Fuck- please! Please…” he begged, watching as Freemind squat down in front of him again, gun in hand. </p><p>He traced the gun up Feetman’s thigh slowly, circling the tent in his pants leading into strokes. </p><p>“Chill out, I’m not done. Thought you get off on guns so much why don’t you finish by grinding one off on mine?”</p><p>“Fuck you…” he spits.</p><p>He was already so close, just needed a little more… he shifts to get the best position for grinding against the weapon. He tries not to look at it, seeing a gun so close to his junk was fear inducing, made his head spin, and of course he drank it all up. </p><p>He held on to Freemind’s shoulders to make sure he wouldn’t fall over as he rolled his hips. Every little desperate noise spilling from his mouth unfiltered. </p><p>Feetman looked up to meet the intense stare of Freemind and studied him. He wasn’t kidding earlier, he really did find him attractive. It might be a little weird now given the whole confusing alternate universes situation and all, but Feetman always enjoyed kissing during physical encounters. Leaning up until their lips connected, he waited a beat to give him a chance to pull away. </p><p>Freemind dominated the kiss as if he had something to prove, and he probably thought he did. Feetman didn’t contest and let him lead, far too gone to care. All he knew is that the other pair of lips pressing against his felt nice and he was <i>so so</i> close, his grinding grew erratic. </p><p>When he was finally pushed over the edge Freemind swallowed the keen it drew in their kiss. After a moment he pulled away while Feetman dealt with the aftershocks of his orgasm, standing up to put his gun back on the table. </p><p>There was a growing wet spot from where Feetman had came in his pants, and he looked like he wanted to die, again. He covered his face with his hands and groaned.</p><p>“Whelp, I can never look any of you in the face again.”</p><p>“How are you embarrassed when you’re the one who started it? Don’t be so dramatic.” He says, extending a hand out to help him off the floor.</p><p>He takes it, wobbling a bit as he finds his balance with his legs still weak while Freemind dusts some of the dirt off his back. </p><p>“Oh, um.. thanks.” He says, surprised by the kind action. </p><p>“I saw Freeman and Gorgeous head down the right hallway a while ago, so you probably want to hurry to the bathrooms near the dorms to the left if you don’t want them to see the mess you made of your pants.” </p><p>“Yep, got it. Thanks.” He says, face beat red with humiliation again. </p><p>Freemind watched him awkwardly shuffle out the door and shook his head. What a dweeb.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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